


The Radio, He Calls to Me

by astrophysicist_not_princess



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Radio, Angst, Baltimore, England (Country), Eventual Smut, Insomnia, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Radio, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrophysicist_not_princess/pseuds/astrophysicist_not_princess
Summary: Alex's grandfather left him an old radio after he passed. He'd loved music, ever since he was little, and Alex tuned in to the right radio station while he gr
Relationships: Alex Gaskarth/Original Female Character(s), Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think there's a button for this but I suck at ao3, so. This work is inspired by two other works, the first being a Jalex fanfiction called "erode." And the second being an actual published book called "Felix Ever After". I hope you guys enjoy!

A radio sat on Alex's desk, its mid-1900's design looking out of place on the hardwood planked floor.  
The apartment was quiet, with Alex's mother at work and his Grandpop.. well, he was gone now. He pushed the thought out of his mind and continued staring at the clunky little radio, the probably dust-filled audio jack practically calling his name. But it was too hot to move around much today, today was just humidity and sunburns.  
Oh, the weather was usually so perfectly dreary to match his moods as of late! But of course, today was a beautiful, unbearably _gorgeous_ sunny day. A sunny, hot-as-balls day that could shame away California's beaches and make the sun itself cry.  
Alex lay shirtless across his bed, the tiny fan he had stood up near the bed with tape and a few stacked cereal boxes not doing much to cool him off. Through the hazy air, he could hear the hazier, heavy sound of cars and motorbikes passing by on the street below.  
"Maybe I should turn on the radio.." he mumbled to the somehow empty air. The radio hadn't been on since before his grandfather's death. He hadn't had any kind of courage or motivation to get his lazy ass up and just listen. Maybe he was most scared of hearing something he liked, a favorite song perhaps, and having the song hurt him for the rest of his life.   
Whatever the case, he reached out, over the edge of his bed, into the depths of his room, and pressed the switch on, a little click and a puff of dust encasing the movement.   
Considering the radio wasn't plugged in, Alex didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't silence. He got up and plugged in the radio, moving it a bit closer to the edge of his desk, to the spot where it nearly met the end of his bed.  
As he flipped the switch again, the radio turned on. And a little drawer clicked open in the back, almost inaudible.  
Inside of the peculiar compartment was a piece of paper, folded to be small, just the right size to fit. Alex unfolded it into a notebook-sized sheet of paper that had a list of radio stations and times, and little notes scribbled into the corners about what each was about.  
Alex couldn't read half of what the paper said at a glance, but he saw one show that started at 8:30 am, with a note next to it.  
"American broadcaster," Alex read the note out loud, glancing at a clock, which read 8:26 am. And so, he turned the radio dial to 1063 and waited through the four minutes of classical music.  
The lilting violins and brass soared, burrowing into the air around him like feathers into the wind.  
And then it clicked off, just as the clock hit 8:30. A male voice; he sounded young, but not prepubescent. In fact, his voice was smooth and calming as he introduced himself and the radio show.  
"Good morning, fellow insomniacs, it's Boy Exotic tuning in to help you sleep easy. I'm taking calls now, for our older listeners," Alex noticed he'd relaxed some, fully attuned to everything Boy said. Maybe if he were in American time, this would help him sleep. But for now, he'd have to settle for just listening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to add that this is meant to be set in late 1990s/early 2000s, but the music may not quite reflect that, since most of the songs are gentle songs off the top of my head.

"Hello, BoyBoy!" An older voice spilled through the radio, her enthusiasm cheerful rather than grating.   
"Ah! Starshine, my favorite caller. How are you, honey?" He had a smile laced through every letter, pulling a soft smile into Alex's lips where he lay.   
"Oh I'm absolutely lovely, Boy Exotic. I just started knitting again," Starshine sounded vaguely mischievous, like she had something more to say.  
"Ah! Is it as calming as Jammy says it is?"  
"Well, not quite. I'm not in the swing of it yet," she laughed nervously here, "but it's going well so far, which is at least something. I'm knitting a sweater for my nephew," anyone could hear the immeasurable happiness in her voice, just as anyone could hear the surprise in Boy Exotic's.  
"A nephew! Why, Starshine, you have quite a bit to catch us all up on!" He chuckled softly, letting her smooth vibrato fill the speakers.  
"Well, you have to get to the next caller," she seemed shy, "but I'll catch you up on it tomorrow, alright?"  
"Alright, but you have to promise!" They both laughed softly.  
"I promise," Boy Exotic ended the call, obviously smiling to himself by his tone.  
"Alright we have some calming music from a metal band of all places. This is Stabbing in the Dark by Ice Nine Kills,"  
The radio starts playing a gentle acoustic, almost managing to lull Alex into sleep at only 9 in the morning. But he resisted, just enjoying the soft melody.   
Boy Exotic ended the song, clicking his mic back into on. "Well! Let's take our next called, shall we?" His voice was soft and calming as he answered the phone.  
"Hey Boy Exotic; it's Samuel," the new man who had called had a faint accent. It sounded vaguely french, and Alex smiled, knowing that any European accent that wasn't like his could gladly talk him to sleep any night.  
"Samuel, hello! New caller?" He asked, and Alex could almost see the way he was sitting by the way he talked. Whatever was happening in his head, this state of mind was glorious. Like the first time he'd shared a blunt with someone at a party, except much, much better.  
"You caught me. Longtime listener, just too anxious to call," Alex could hear it in his voice. He was good at observing these things.  
"Welcome to the field of callers then! What's your reason for calling to this Insomniac's Anonymous meeting?" Boy joked, and Alex could faintly hear him lean back in what sounded like an office chair.  
"Your radio is actually the only reason I've managed to get to sleep at all since I moved to Ontario, so I just had to thank you," Alex smiled, already loving to hear these little glimpses into people's lives. It's always more fun to hear 20 parts of 20 stories than 20 parts of 1 story, that's what PopPop always told him. He was about to dwell on that memory before Boy Exotic spoke again.  
"Only doing my job, Samuel. Thank you, for listening in and letting me help!" Boy chuckled and you could practically hear him crack a grin at the lovely sentiment.  
"Also I was hoping to request a song,"  
"Oh of course! It's been a while since someone requested a song, you know. What song is it, Samuel?"  
"Waterloo Sunset, Def Leppard. It's something my mom always sang to me when I couldn't sleep as a toddler," Samuel laughed awkwardly, like it was an embarrassing memory to bare go the public. But even in the late morning, it felt like night did, where things were quiet and peaceful, other people's secrets wrapped around Alex's limbs like a blanket woven of moonlight and kindness.  
"A wonderful choice, Samuel! I'm going to cut to that while we wait for our next caller, and just sit tight while we away along," Alex smiled as the first chords played, the song's gentle tune floating through the air. It felt just as humid and emotional as this week in London had been, with the raw vocals nearly pulling tears from Alex's eyes. He smiled, using his arms as a pillow as he listened to the guitar fade. Boy Exotic's voice drifted into his ears, making him smile widely. He wondered if the neighbors were smoking weed again and he was high, but he didn't feel that same mental buzz that he did when he was high. Although, his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest and hug the radio.  
"I have to wrap up this show pretty soon and no one's called yet, so it seems we have to wait, eh? To all the new listeners, the number is 915-170-LATE, alright?" Alex went and grabbed the landline, carrying the radio with him. He dialed the number, his clumsy fingers just narrowly missing the keys and then.  
Ring...  
Ring...  
"Hello!" Boy Exotic's voice echoed through the phone and the radio, so he turned the radio down.  
"Hello! M-my name is uh... Ooh what's a good alias?" Alex mised out loud, forgetting about his british accent.   
"Ah a Brit! How lovely. Your accent is charming, darling," the radio host complimented him lightly, and Alex blushed.  
"Thank you, this is a long distance call haha. Call me Sunshine Boy," he looked out at the sun y day and smiled, realizing he was shirtless.   
"Well, Sunshine, what's on your mind?"  
"Ahh...." Tough question, "My grandpop left me a radio and your show was one of the ones he wrote down for me?" Alex started, internally groaning.  
"Oh that sounds really cool! Was he a good grandfather?" Boy Exotics gentle voice came and pulled Alex's lips into a smile.   
"Yes, yes he was," he was about to have a panic attack. Alex hung up the phone in a hurry, feeling the pull and twist of his chest as he sprinted off to his room, radio in hand.  
This always happened when he talked about hai grandfather. Either he went numb or he had a panic attack. It hurt and he felt like he was going to die right along with his Grandpop but there was no one there to tell him to calm down. No one to tell him to breathe.  
So he lay in the fetal position, having bumped the switch on the radio off as he ran, and he cried until he tired himself into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherever you are: ONE OK ROCK   
> The Saltwater Room by Owl City (reminding myself of calming songs part one)
> 
> Also: major tws in this chapter include: weed, smoking, self-harm, death of a loved one, and thunderstorms

The dark room was humid beyond belief: the gentle navy of a night sky weaving through the pieces of heavy air like a basket weaver's creation unfolding.

Alex did not like it. His face was dried, crusted over with tears and the right feeling that came from feeling like you're going to die. The radio was clutched in his arms, reminding him of all the times he would clutch onto his grandfather's arm when he would get anxious.

_"Alex, I'm here. I'm always here, Alex," he murmured into Alex's hair. His scratchy white beard tickled Alex's scalp as his hiccups slowly turned to smiles and gentle giggles._

Lightning interrupted his memories, the resounding thunder making him jump and narrowly avoid hitting his head on the desk.

That sort of influx of emotion, between almost falling asleep in peace, having a panic attack, and then waking up to rain, sad memories, and tiredness? It was incredibly draining. Alex was practically having an out of body experience from how much he was dissociating his way out of it. He decided to check the station paper that his grandfather left him, seeing if there were any stations on right now. 

Almost right away, he saw a station at ten o'clock pm his time, which was a few minutes ago. So he turned the radio on, remembering to plug it in this time,.before turning to 563. The man's voice wasn't as smooth as Boy Exotic's, and he wasn't anywhere near as charismatic or charming. Alex found himself turning the radio off and turning over onto his front. Whether to cry or sleep, he didn't know. Maybe both, maybe neither, the world felt empty and thin. Like if he moved too fast, reality would shatter around him and he'd fall through the cracks, into the abyss of time and space personified.

Alex decided this was far too philosophical for him to be sober. So he opened the little tin in the back of his bottom drawer, rolled a blunt that was just a bit too long, and took a long, heavy drag. The weed sent a pleasant buzzing feeling through his skull, making the weird, broken thoughts in his head turn into languid, fluid motion. Anxiety couldn't catch him here, like a knight and a dragon. His anxiety tried to attack but the blunt kept it all away.

The thoughts drifted into the air like the soft tendrils of smoke, his head clearing, like the thoughts curled into the thick air with the smoke.

High Alex pondered life. What everything around him was like. He pondered his feelings, pondered the night sky; pondered anything that he could possibly think of. 

The night sky could be its own seperate subject.

Gentle blues gave way to navy blue, navy black, and the thick blanket of purple galaxy that Alex knew resided above his head if he only had the means to look at it. The humidity made the blackness seem so much darker, like it was sucking the light from London itself, sucking the life out of Alex. 

Dark, roiling clouds overhead gave way only to the lightning and thunder that punctuated rain-filled sentences. How similar that seemed to be to life right now, Alex pondered.

Lightning shattered that thought into a million other thoughts that Alex could think about later, he'd decided. And so it began, the slow, molasses process of Alex Thinking as the night got darker, gloomier, and the rain thundered down harder. 

Alex thought it was like a book he'd read once before. The main character had finally snapped, burning all up and down his arms til he had horrifying blisters. The ending had been basically just him crying his sorrows and pains out, like the near-monsoon that tore down outside his windows. Sometimes, alex just thought you needed a good cry to get everything out. Preferably in a nighttime shower, or even cuddled under the covers at 1:25 am. There were endless possibilities as to good places and times to cry, in his opinion.

Or maybe that was the blunt talking. Who knows? Alex sure didn't. 

Eventually, the rain made him fall asleep, the blunt put out and sitting, cold, on his desk. His mom didn't mind. There were worse ways for him to get philosophical, she supposed.

This time, sleep came easy, and gentle, calming dreams stemmed from his heavy eyes.


End file.
